Saving Snape
by Soline
Summary: ONE-SHOT. This story follows Hermione as her relationship with Professor Severus Snape advances over seven years. Will they be together in the end? Rating for explicit scene.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own Harry Potter.

**So I've written this over the course of a year, and it has finally come around to being finished. It veered off in an unexpected direction today! But I finally finished it, so I'm throwing it out there. In the end, I think it rather centers on Snape and his freedom.**

**I'm glad to publish this, because my Snape/Hermione fiction writing has nearly ceased completely. I've begun writing my own things, but I like to come back here, because fanfiction is very important to me.**

**Please note: There is a rather explicit sex scene in Hermione's seventh year. I hope it doesn't feel too weird, haha. But if you don't like it, don't read it! :)**

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><p><strong>First Year<strong>

As much as she flattened it down on her head, Hermione's hair frizzed out much more than it logically should. She raked her fingers through it, but that only made it worse.

"Granger, Hermione"

She tripped over her sneakers on the way to the stool in front of the Great Hall. People snickered at her and then the Sorting Hat was dropped onto her head.

"Hello, Hermione Granger," it hummed. Then it buzzed low in her ear like it was muttering to itself. "You aren't molded for your path yet. Your path will mold you. But I'll tell you this. In Gryffindor, you'll find greatness and friendship. In Slytherin, you will find happiness and true love. Which matters most?"

Greatness—Hermione had never dreamed of greatness. Friends would be lovely, though.

However, happiness and love. She wanted more than anything to be happy. And _love_. Hermione blushed furiously, but she had always been a secret romantic, even as a child.

Slytherin.

"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared. Hermione jumped so high that she tumbled off the stool. The hall shook with laughter.

She didn't remain for the entire feast. Tears burned hot and fast in her eyes, and Hermione didn't have the strength to deal. She found a bathroom, sat in the corner and cried until her chest heaved and the window grew dark.

"Miss Granger."

Hermione's eyelids had closed and she wasn't sure how long she had slept. She opened her eyes blearily to find a deep chocolate gaze glittering down on her. It was framed by black hair, lank but shining. The man's skin was pale and clean as ice. His nose was large, hooked and powerful in a strange way. Hermione thought he was beautiful.

"Why aren't you in bed?" he said, his voice seething and unfriendly. "Do you know how annoying it is to search until three in the morning because one first year needs to be accounted for?"

Beautiful and petrifying. Hermione shrank back.

"I' m sorry," she whispered. "They were all laughing at me."

The man sighed and squatted down, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm Professor Snape, your Head of House," he said.

"I'm Hermione Granger of Abbey Lane," she replied. "You're the potions master, aren't you? I read your book."

"Indeed." His lips quirked like she was being funny.

"I thought the chapter on stolid potions' response to undergrowth fungi was particularly interesting," she said and leaned out of the corner a bit. "Although, I think you could have remedied the Smile Brightener in chapter two with sugar."

"You—Sugar?" His look faded into contemplation. "Glad to see Slytherin has acquired some brains this time. Now since we both have an early morning, I suggest—"

"Did people laugh at you when you were in school?" Hermione interrupted. He glared at her for it, but Hermione insisted with an eager gaze.

"Everyone's laughed at sometime, Miss Granger." His mouth pressed into a thin, straight line.

"I bet the whole school wasn't laughing at you. At least your teeth are small and your hair lays flat. See?" Hermione blew a piece of frazzled hair out of her face. The clump of hair puffed to twice the size it was before, and Snape scoffed before he could stifle it. When she glared at him, Snape quickly resumed a stern expression.

"Miss Granger of Abbey Lane," he said, "go to bed."

**Second Year**

"How do we get in there?" Ronald Weasley was saying. Hermione walked a bit closer. He was friends with Harry Potter, a legend, although Hermione couldn't see what was so legendary. His marks weren't even as good as hers. "The only way is if we pretend to be someone else," he continued.

"You can do that!" Hermione piped. Her excitement to speak with them and help someone showed. The two boys turned around.

"Are you eavesdropping?" Harry said, his eyes narrowing.

"I was just saying, you can pretend to be someone else. You just have to make the Polyjuice Potion, but it's not easy. I can help-"

"She's Slytherin, Harry," Ron grimaced.

"Yes, but-"

"For all we know, you're on Malfoy's side," said Harry.

"Draco? He's not so bad."

"Told you, Harry," Ron said. "This is the Know-It-All that no one likes. Now she knows what we're trying to do."

Hermione bit her lip, stung and angry.

"And what are you trying to do, Mister Weasley?" a scathing voice said. Hermione looked up to find Professor Snape standing behind her, using his most dangerous expression on the boys. Pure dislike dripped from his voice. "If I find out you're breaking school rules, Potter, I'll gladly have you expelled."

"I'm not, sir."

"Then go to class," Snape snapped. "Come to potions, Miss Granger."

His pale hand steered her away by her shaking shoulder. "Don't. Those boys aren't worth it."

"They said no one likes me. That's true."

"They're the cheap, inferior words of dim school boys," Snape said. Hermione shrugged, watching the last students scramble into their classrooms. "Miss Granger."

Hermione looked up and almost smiled. If there was anything close to a friend in the school, it was Professor Snape. He didn't often smile at her and never laughed. He didn't share secrets. He wasn't even nice most of the time. But he did sympathize.

"When you are older and your acquaintances more mature, things will change. You won't always be ignored," he said.

"Yes, sir." Snape glanced at her smile.

"You need to be more cautious, too," he said, turning to continue down the hallway. "If there is something targeting Muggleborns, you shouldn't walk the hallways alone."

**Third Year**

Almost done and absolute perfection! Hermione cheered to herself and rotated the ladle. Snape would be proud in his own way, where his eyebrow would raise just slightly. The Skin-Mend Potion was the hardest they had brewed yet.

She was over the moon.

"Who can tell me Fibion's theory on Skin-Mend?" Snape asked. Hermione's hand bulleted through the air. "Yes?"

"Fibion's theory says the gases which Skin-Mend expels while steaming can be used in the sister potion, Bone-Regrown," Hermione chanted.

"Correct. Ten points to Slytherin. Bottle your potions and deliver them to my desk. Once your station is cleaned, class is dismissed."

Gryffindors grumbled around her, and Hermione felt a few scathing looks fall on her.

"Teacher's pet," someone hissed.

"No, just smarter than you," Hermione replied in a singsong voice. She was too excited to be dragged down. She wanted to show Snape her potion.

She was carefully pouring the bubbling liquid into a vial when Neville Longbottom yelped beside her. A boom shook the classroom and hot pink liquid streamed across her vision. Suddenly, she felt like someone stabbed her in the arm, and she shrieked.

"GET OUT!" Snape roared. People were running. Hermione tried to follow, but something stabbed her in the foot. She was suddenly lifted up and set atop a desk.

"Take off your robes," Snape hissed. He and Hermione fumbled to undo her buttons and rip off the burning material. He flung it to the side, and Hermione could see the hot pink goo eating away at it.

"My foot!" she gasped. Snape knelt to rip off her shoe and sock. The pink potion was doing the same to them.

"What just happened?" she wheezed.

"That fool Longbottom knocked over his cauldron," Snape growled. "He brewed it completely wrong, and it's turned into a hazardous substance. I have to cut off your sleeve - be still."

Underneath her sleeve, an oozing hole the size of a galleon was burning through her flesh. Hermione gagged to look at it and swayed.

"Madame Pomfrey has Skin-Mend on supply—"

"Use mine," Hermione moaned. Her vision swam and Snape grabbed her shoulders to keep her upright. He looked surreptitiously into her cauldron.

"I don't think that's wise," he said slowly.

"It's perfect!" Hermione snapped. The pain was building and blinding her. "Just look at it! Don't be thick!"

He raised his eyebrows, but shoved up his own sleeve, ladled her potion, and poured some on his arm. He watched it with careful inspection.

"See?" Hermione said. The potion continued to eat through her flesh on her arm and foot. "Oh, just bloody do it!"

Snape scooped up more of the potion and poured it into the hole in her arm. She squeaked at the feeling and felt her stomach heave. Before she could make another noise, Snape poured the potion onto her foot. In a moment, the pain faded and she leaned over to press her forehead to her knees.

"I believe I receive an Outstanding for this assignment," Hermione croaked. She thought she heard Snape chuckle.

"Indeed. You will," he said. "You will also receive detention tomorrow night for speaking disrespectfully and cursing at your professor."

"What! Professor!"

"Let me see it," he said. Hermione sighed but showed him her arm, which had completely healed. Snape procured a new pair of shoes for her to wear. "Longbottom will be excused from this class," he hissed. "If that potion had landed elsewhere—your head or stomach..."

"I'm alright," she said quickly, because Snape's face had twisted into anger. "What's that on your forearm? Do you have a tattoo?"

Snape looked down at the black skull and then covered it with a curse. Hermione's eyebrows raised.

"It's—" He paused and met her amber eyes. "It's a burden."

"Can I help?"

It twisted her insides to think of Snape burdened. He was the strongest man she knew, and he was her friend. But Snape only gave her a small smile and shook his head.

**Fourth Year**

"Granger, you look... good." Wealsey's eyes wouldn't pull away from her chest. In fact, most of the students seemed to just realize that Hermione was a girl.

She smiled slyly. "And what are you wearing? Your mum's Christmas curtains?" she said.

Weasley's ears turned bright red and, while he was wordless, Hermione sauntered past him. Sauntering was a new thing for Hermione—she'd never felt sexy before. But in the soft pink dress she was wearing, and after magically fixing her teeth despite her parents' request, she actually felt attractive.

She reached the punch bowl, poured herself a glass, and glanced back at Weasley where he was muttering to himself.

"Merlin's bollocks, Miss Granger." Snape sidled up beside her. "What have you said to Weasley?"

Hermione shot her professor a small grin.

"Sometimes it's difficult to see the Slytherin in you, and sometimes it's blindingly easy," he scoffed. "Is that punch clean?"

"I believe Draco spiked it earlier."

Snape took the glass from Hermione with a disdainful look and sipped it.

"Seven parts cheap liquor," he said. "It'll only serve to make you sick."

Hermione watched as he did some quick work to clean the punch, and then looked across the room and found Viktor Krum staring at her.

"Excuse me, sir," she said and hurried to Viktor. He bowed as she approached, and Hermione felt her cheeks flush. She suddenly remembered what the Sorting Hat told her four years earlier—she would find true love in Slytherin. Could Viktor be _him_?

They danced until Hermione's feet were tired, and then Viktor said with a heavy accent, "Vill you valk with me?"

They strolled toward the garden—a beautiful sight on the Hogwarts campus. The trees and fountains glittered with fairies and they stopped near flowers that hummed soflty whenever anyone walked near. Viktor was surprisingly gentle for a builky Quidditch player, and his fingertips were soft when he lifted her chin. His breath smelled sweet, and Hermione leaned toward him, her mind and senses fuzzy as she touched his chest.

"Mister Krum, your night is finished. Go home." Snape had appeared on the walkway, one hand balling into a fist. Hermione spun around so fast in her surprise and anger that she fell to her knees. Viktor stooped to help her, but Snape snapped again angrily. "Go now!"

"I'm sorry, Hermione. Let's keep in touch," Viktor murmured and walked away. Hermione squinted upward.

"Professor?"

"You are too small for seven parts liquor," Snape growled. She cringed—he was angry with her, but he did help her stand. "What were you doing with Mister Krum?"

"I was going to kiss him," Hermione said and began walking back to the castle. Snape held her elbow. "Please don't be angry with me, Professor. He likes me."

"Of course he likes you," he sneered. "Look at what you're wearing."

"No, he liked me before, too! In the library, he comes to see me," Hermione snapped and spun on her professor. "And furthermore, this dress is perfectly modest! Yes, I have _breasts_ now, and they're going to be noticeable every now and then!"

Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth and closed her eyes.

"I don't know why I just said that to you," she mumbled. For a moment, there was silence. "He actually likes me, Professor. He and I don't talk much but..."

Snape's dark eyes flickered down at her.

"I believe I have overstepped my boundaries, Miss Granger," Snape said quietly, "but someone needs to tell you this. He's just a boy. Boys have little care for your heart or your well-being."

But Hermione wondered, what if Viktor was the true love? Or what if the Sorting Hat was wrong, and there was nothing for her in Slytherin?

"You're my only friend, Professor. I just wanted another," Hermione muttered. She kept her gaze down, so he didn't see the tears in her eyes. "I'm going to bed."

Snape remained silent as he walked her back to the castle.

**Fifth Year**

"I brought you tea. It's my grandmother's recipe," Hermione said quietly and set the tray down on Snape's desk. Classes were over, but he remained hunched over and stared listlessly at some papers.

She knew he wasn't really seeing them. The vein in his temple was working again, his face was whiter than usual, and his fingernails were dirty. Snape's fingernails were never dirty—it was a sign of a good potions master.

Hermione poured him a cup, and she was sure not to set it on any papers.

"My grandmother's name was Amelia. Before she passed, she came to see me—just me—every Sunday. I was sick often when I was young, and she would come to make me this special tea," Hermione said. She poured her own cup. "She called it magic tea. Sometimes I wonder if it really was."

Snape said nothing. She wasn't sure if he was annoyed at her presence or not.

Hermione had taken to visiting him occasionally. Every day, his shoulders grew tenser and his eyes strained, his tone sharper and detentions more frequent.

"Please, try it," Hermione said softly. Without a word, Snape wrapped his long fingers around the cup and sipped.

"It's very good," he said quietly, and Hermione smiled.

She would not ask him about his troubles. She knew he'd never talk.

"Grandmother always told me, 'This tea will warm your heart, dear, so the world doesn't seem so unforgiving.'"

Snape took another drink and sat up straight. His dark eyes studied her and, for the first time since her first year, she felt a little nervous in his gaze.

This was not the nervousness of a young schoolgirl. Hermione realized, with a twist of her stomach, that this was the nervousness she used to feel around Viktor Krum.

"Miss Granger, would you mind bringing this tea on each Sunday?" he said. His shoulders were straight, but Hermione thought he was trying to find some comfort, and he felt the tea would help.

It's not you he wants, Hermione told herself, and this is just some silly crush. Be reasonable.

"Of course I will, Professor."

**Sixth Year**

"Hermione, move!"

Draco Malfoy hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her into a corner. A purple spell whizzed past them, and Draco's stormy eyes stared firmly into hers.

"Be careful," he demanded.

"Why are there Death Eaters in the school, Draco?" Hermione pointed her wand over his shoulder to Stun a particularly lethal wizard.

"I... I..." Draco squeezed his eyes shut. "Look. You may be a Mudblood, but you're still a Slytherin, and we've always been decent to each other. These guys are aiming to kill. Just be careful."

"Draco," Hermione said and grasped his hand. "We'll be fine."

Draco swallowed hard and stared at her. "I have to go do something," he said and ran down the nearest hallway.

She had to find Snape. The dungeons were empty, and she'd knocked on the door of his private quarters for nearly ten minutes. Where was he?

Of course, he didn't need her, but she had to know that he was alright. She had to know which side he was fighting on tonight.

She'd known that the tattoo on his arm was the Dark Mark since last year. She could surmise by his constant stress and deteriorating health, and also his closeness to Dumbledore, that it was not a simple allegiance to the Dark side.

But she knew that she trusted him and, to a certain degree, she loved him. Her unrelenting crush would forever remain a secret from him.

Hermione worked her way outside, ducking and throwing curses where she could. It was quieter outside. She yelled and called his name, and she walked as far as the Forbidden Forest when a fire behind her lit up the lawn of Hogwarts.

Draco hurtled past her about twenty feet from where she stood and disappeared into the forest. Hermione retreated into the darkness of the trees as a dark figure hurtled after Draco. She had to be sure… it was him.

"Professor!"

Just inside the tree line, Snape whirled about, his wand raised at her. "Granger?"

She ran, tripping over roots, and nearly hurtled into his chest. He caught her arms. "What's going on? Are you okay? Where are you going?"

"Go back to the school, Miss Gra—"

"_No!_ Tell me where you're going!"

"I don't have to tell you a damn thing, witch! Just stay out of my way!" Snape snapped. His grip tightened painfully. Hermione's temper and frustration flared, leaping into her throat with burning heat. She yanked one arm away, pulled it back, and slapped him as hard as she could. For a moment, all was silent except for crying in the distance, and Snape fixed her with a deadly stare.

"I'm not sorry," Hermione said, although the words caught in her throat. Tears flooded her eyes. "I'm not. I just don't want you to go. I don't… I don't want to lose you. Severus, please…"

Upon using his first name, something appeared to have dawned on Snape. His lips parted, and his eyes lost their anger. Hermione blushed furiously behind her tears.

"You have to go to You-Know-Who now, I know. But what if I never… we never… What if you die? You're the one the Sorting Hat was talking about—I _know_ you are! I've never felt so lost and so sure at the same time. I—"

Snape interrupted by pulling Hermione against his chest. She stiffened, her mind whirling, then clutched his robes.

"We cannot speak now, Miss Granger," he said, his voice low and rough. "I am to return to Hogwarts next school year as Headmaster. Come back, and together we will have one more year."

**Seventh Year**

Autumn crept slowly closer. Hermione watched the paper each day, clutching it in white-knuckled fingers, and scoured the ink for news of Snape. There had only been one mention—Severus Snape, previous potions professor, was instated as Headmaster of Hogwarts, and he declined to give a quote.

As she rode the Hogwarts Express at the end of the summer, everyone aboard spoke in hushed tones, as if someone had died. They were all frightened of Snape's reign. Even the Slytherins were nervous.

Only Hermione balled her hands in her robes and bounced her knees in anticipation. Words tumbled through her head—words she would say to Snape. What if he had forgotten her? Grown cold toward her?

Hermione instead tried to steer her thoughts toward classes. She would have Advanced Runes II—her toughest class yet. As much as she loved Runes, it was her most challenging class. Perhaps that was why she loved it. Her toughest class used to be Potions, but after Snape's tutelage... Severus...

When the students arrived at Hogwarts, they were ordered into lines and filed like an army into the Great Hall. And finally, after a summer of waiting, Hermione laid eyes on _him_.

He stood in the front, behind the pedestal that used to belong to Dumbledore. His arms were crossed tightly and his eyes narrowed, gazing darkly at all the students. His face was pale and looking more gaunt than usual. Hermione sat down clumsily, because she couldn't stop staring. He, in turn, did not look at her at all.

HSHSHSH

"Sev... Professor?" Hermione knocked on his office door. It flew open to reveal the Carrow brother.

"What do you want?" the scarred, dark man growled. "This Headmaster is busy. In fact, I'm sure it's against the rules to be bothering him at all." He leaned one hand on the doorsill and towered over her. Hermione glared up at him. "There are new punishments this year, witch. How would you like to be tied spread-eagle and flogged?"

"Carrow! Let the student in, and get out!" Snape snapped from inside.

Carrow grumbled, and as he let himself out, he said, "Just watch your back, witch. There's always room in the dungeon for a piece like you." Hermione watched him go with wide eyes. Sure, she'd heard talk like that in the Slytherin common room often, but it was never used to threaten her.

"Come in, Miss Granger," Snape called, his voice gentler now. She took a breath and moved further in. He was standing in front of the large desk, which was no longer covered in Dumbledore's trinkets. For a moment, they simply stared at each other. "You look well," he said.

"And how are you?" she said. "I could... I could bring some more tea. You always looked better after some tea."

A smile touched his lips. "Perhaps later."

It was all Hermione could do to not touch him. Grab onto his arm and not release him. He was her only friend, her only crush now. The Sorting Hat said she would find him, and she did. There was no other.

"I meant what I said the last time we spoke. I don't want to lose you," she said, summoning up bravery. She walked closer, and he did not tense. She used his first name, because she'd been repeating it in her mind for years. "Severus. The Sorting Hat told me I'd find love in Slytherin. I was eleven. A romantic. I thought it was Viktor Krum, but it wasn't. The path has been leading me to you the whole time."

His brows furrowed. "I'm too old for you, Miss Granger," he said.

"No," she said. "You're not. These... _boys_ here. They do nothing for me. Since fifth year, I've looked at you and just felt this... _thing_. And I understand if you don't feel the same way. I must be like a child to you."

"No," he said slowly. "You've grown into a woman in my eyes. Intelligent. Brave. Sometime I think the Sorting Hat might have offered you the option of Gryffindor."

"It did," she smiled. "I chose Slytherin." She reached forward to touch him tentatively. As her fingers touched his arm, she sighed as if in relief.

"You must stop these feelings, witch," Snape said, suddenly firm, although he didn't back away. "I'm a dead end."

"That's a load of—"

"I won't live past the next year, Miss Granger. I'll be dead, and you will have to get over it. It's easier to forget me now." His words stung, but she knew him well enough to know he didn't want to hurt her. He was trying to chase her away.

Well. She wouldn't be gotten rid of so easily. Hermione fixed him with a glare. Then she clutched his sleeve and drew herself to him, pressing against his lean chest. Her other hand grabbed the back of his neck, and she pushed herself onto her toes.

"Gran—"

She cut him off by pressing her lips to his and crushing her body to him. Her breasts tingled, and her belly clenched in a flood of warmth. He grabbed her waist painfully, pushing her away, but Hermione growled into his mouth and threw both arms over his shoulders. His grip still painful, he opened his mouth and swiped his tongue against hers. Hermione moaned and sucked on his bottom lip.

One large hand moved from her waist and slid to her ass, squeezing and rubbing until Hermione felt a fire ignited between her thighs.

"Hermione," Severus growled against her mouth. She could feel his cock beginning to harden. "You're playing with fire, witch. You are of age. I have no qualms with taking you even if I have to throw you on the desk. I've watched you. I've wanted you for a year now. I didn't know you returned the affection, and it is a good thing. The temptation would have been too great... I've been lonely for a long time."

"So have I," she replied and arched against him. Her inexperienced mind barely caught his words—she was too wrapped up in his hands and mouth. How could he speak at a time like this? "You're my only friend, Severus."

"I don't think you understand. I've not had a woman in years. There has been no time. No opportunity." He clutched her ass cheeks in both hands and pulled her against him in a quick tug.

"Oh..." So what? Was that supposed to mean something to Hermione? "It doesn't matter. I've never had sex."

Suddenly, Hermione was left alone in the middle of the room, her body crying for contact again, and she couldn't help but release a whimper. "What are you doing?" she pleaded.

Snape had moved behind his desk, his chest rising like he'd run a marathon and his eyes furious.

"I certainly will not be your first!" he snarled. "Why would you do that to yourself, you stupid girl? How will you feel when I'm dead? Losing your virginity to me will create feelings and a tie that will be painful to destroy, when I'm dead. Stupid girl!"

"Stop saying that, you foolish man!" she hissed. Her balled fists rose in front of her chest as if to defend herself. "Don't look at me like that, Severus Snape. I'm a grown woman, and I will make my own bloody choices. Not only will I have you, but I'm not going to let you die. I swear I will not let you die."

"No one can stop the Dark Lord."

"Well, he's obviously never met Hermione Granger!"

A pause, and then a laugh threatened Snape's lips. She stormed around the desk to be near him again.

"I want you, Severus. You want me. You don't have to love me right now, but respect my decisions."

His chocolate eyes scoured her face, and then he suddenly looked perturbed. His fingers clenched her wrist.

"If you want to be with me, Miss Granger, then you'll come to learn that I don't take orders. I give them. Bend over."

She gasped as she was pushed face-first down on the desk. Her robe and skirt were flipped over her ass, and her skin quivered at the sudden exposure.

"Severus!" she squeaked and looked over her shoulder in alarm. His expression softened, and he bent over her to whisper in her ear. Hermione groaned.

"Don't be afraid, Hermione," he said. "I'm about to satisfy urges we both need filled. You've never been a student to me, you know. You've always been... a safe harbor."

And then he was gone. Hermione peeked over her shoulder but couldn't find him. Suddenly, her panties were tugged to her knees, and Snape's warm tongue licked a trail up her thigh. She dropped her face into her forearms and tried to control her breathing, but when he blew a warm breath across her lips, she squealed.

"Sensitive," he chuckled. She was about to retort when his tongue flattened on her clit and licked to her perineum in one, slow swipe. Hermione shrieked and tried to close her legs, but he held them firmly apart.

"Severus, wait!" She reached back, but he trapped her wrists on her lower back in one hand. Now pinned in place, Snape delved into her quim, licking, biting, and sucking while Hermione squealed and pleaded. She was becoming swollen and dripping wet. It was embarrassing. "You don't... have... to do this!"

His mouth left her for a moment. "Be quiet, Hermione, and pay attention. Do I seem like I'm not enjoying myself?"

As if answering his own question, Snape stuck his tongue into her quim, adjusted his grip on her wrists, and began rocking her backwards, effectively fucking her with his tongue. Stars exploded in Hermione's vision. Her body tensed and exploded. She screamed but barely heard herself.

Snape collected her in his arms and turned her over, laying her on the desk amid papers. She glanced down to see him release his cock, engorged and ready. He was thick. Hermione was sure she couldn't touch her fingers around it. He lowered himself between her legs.

"You're sure?" he said and tilted her face toward him. Hermione nodded, wrapping her legs around his waist.

"I love you. I want this," she said.

Snape curled one arm around her head and directed himself into her. With one quick thrust, he filled her completely, stretching her so much that Hermione groaned in discomfort. The pain was stinging and wet. A whimper escaped her throat, and Snape kissed it and began rocking his hips. Suddenly his movements became delicious and slick. His cock moved only fractions of an inch, massaging and building a heat. Pleasure started to take over.

"More," she whispered. Her hands wandered down to clutch his buttocks, pulling at him. Snape groaned into her neck and then leaned up, his hips beginning to rock in larger movements. He pulled out until the head of his cock clung to her then pushed back in slowly. "Faster."

As if she'd released him, Snape adjusted his stance, grabbed her hips, and began pistoning his cock into her. Hermione could only ball her fists and try to keep breathing. At one point, Snape's fingers wandered to her clit and pinched it, and Hermione bucked against him, her walls contracting around his shaft. With a groan, Snape threw his head back and orgasmed with her, his fingertips sinking into the skin of her hips.

He collapsed on top of her, his large nose nuzzled into her shoulder, and she clung to him while she panted. He still made tiny rocking movements with his hips, and she savored them.

"You may stay for a little while, Hermione. If you want," he said quietly.

"I will."

HSHSHSH

Hermione dropped several vials into a bag. Some potions she'd only finished moments before. She had talismans and weapons tucked into her pocket. She'd shoot Voldemort with the pistol if she had to. Voldemort. No longer You-Know-Who. Hermione wasn't scared of him anymore—not if being scared meant losing Severus Snape.

She and Snape had spent the last school year stealing moments where they could, taking comfort in each other. If she was only a safe harbor to him, it didn't matter. He needed a safe harbor more than ever during that last year, it seemed.

She ran out of her Head Girl's room and down the stairs, stumbling when the castle shuddered. It was the war. It had been happening all evening, and Hermione had refused to leave with the other Slytherins.

She looked at her parchment again. It was a map of Hogwarts' ground, and a little black dot was moving toward the Whomping Willow. That was Snape. She'd planted a tracking spell on him months ago, and he never even knew. He was too busy with his own troubles and plans.

Hermione took the stairs three at a time, hoping none of the potions in her bag would break. She'd made every antidote she could. She had to be prepared for anything Snape was faced with. She was going to save him. But she was running late. He was so far ahead of her...

She was no athlete, so sprinting quickly set her lungs on fire. Nonetheless, Hermione pushed onward. By the time she reached the tree, it was stilled. She practically dove beneath it and crawled determinedly forward. Save him, save him, save him, she chanted.

"Harry... someone's coming!" That was Weasley's voice. Of course. Snape was meeting Voldemort at the Shrieking Shack, and Harry Potter was sure to be around. This was his battle, after all.

Potter was backing away from Snape and pocketing a vial. Hermione scrambled out of the hole.

"What happened?" she shrieked, her hands running over Snape's pale face. "God..." The bite marks in his neck were spilling blood. She pressed her hands to them.

"He's dead," Potter said quietly, as if unsure whether to help her. "What are you doing here?"

"The snake bit him, right? That's what happened, isn't it? Get in my bag, and get the bright blue potion." When neither of the boys moved, she turned, looked at the redhead, and yelled, "_Get it, you moron_!"

Weasley immediately dove for the bag, fumbling until Potter Accio'd it out. Hermione poured the potion over Snape's shredded neck and watched it form pink, new skin.

"Good, now the purple potion and the bezoar," she ordered. Both boys hurried to hand them over. Hermione poured the potion over the bezoar, drenching it, then shoved it down Severus' throat. She held her breath and waited.

"I don't think—" Weasley began.

"Hush." Severus' skin reddened, his brows drew together, and then he shot straight up, gasping for breath.

"Merlin's pimply balls," Weasley said. Potter muttered something to his friend, clapped Hermione on the shoulder, and they both sped off down the passageway again.

"Hermione!" Severus gasped, clutching at his throat. Hermione coaxed him to lie down, and she reclined beside him. The war was about to continue but, for now, she would take in this enormous victory. "Where is the Dark Lord? The snake?"

"They aren't here anymore. You're safe," she said. Snape groaned.

"You actually did save me. You stubborn, hard-headed witch. You—"

"Lovely, brilliant savior?"

"What did you give me anyway?"

Hermione shrugged. "A flesh-mending potion to stop the bleeding. A bezoar soaked in an antidote to fight the venom. It was an educated guess, so I suppose we're lucky it worked."

Snape had the strength to give her a disdainful look. Then, as if he couldn't go through with a negative expression, he pulled her atop him instead.

"You are brilliant, you know. The most brilliant witch to have ever attended Hogwarts," he murmured against her lips. She smiled. "But don't let it go to your head. That hair's big enough."

"I can bring you back from the dead, you know. Killing you would be no big thing," she replied sweetly. He laughed, jiggling her on his chest. "Don't you have to go fight?"

"I have fought, Hermione. I've fought most of my life. I've done my part, and now Potter can finish his." His arms tightened around her. "Do you want to know a secret?"

"What?" she said.

"The Sorting Hat told me the same thing it told you. It offered me Gryffindor or Slytherin. I chose Slytherin, because it was the path to love and acceptance. At the time, I'd thought that true love was someone else, and Slytherin was the path to her. Even though I still loved that girl, I don't think she was the one the Sorting Hat spoke of."

"You think... you think it's me?" Hermione said. Her body melted into the familiar angles of Snape's.

He nodded. "Unexpected. Unorthodox... but unavoidable," he muttered. He turned them onto their sides, facing each other, to see her more clearly. "We've been together seven years, Hermione. You can stay longer, if you want... I'd like you to stay."

"Of course, Severus. I love you."

He closed his eyes for a second—a content man, who hadn't felt safe nor loved for a very long time—and said, "I love you, too."

* * *

><p><strong>This is a one-shot, so please review! I'd love to hear what you thought, and I read each comment I get!<strong>

**Until next time, when Hermione and Snape strike me as the hottest couple ever once more. ;)**

**Soline**


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